


Rantaro/Reader Nsfw

by oddbuki



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Cameras, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Library Sex, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, NSFW, Obsessive Love, Spoilers, Yandere Saihara, rantaro amami x reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-09-23 01:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddbuki/pseuds/oddbuki
Summary: The reader and Rantaro Amami have a 'special' arrangement for what they believe to be the end of everything they know...but when things don't go as planned and the reader survives, how will they cope with the guilt of their boyfriend's death? And how are they going to deal with someone else's developing obsession, now that his rival is out of the way?(this one's a multi-part series with several endings. i've got more chapters in the works and i plan on extending this into a full series!)





	1. Chapter 1

Imagine the musty smell of old books, so strong that its permeated your clothes, and you’ve become almost numb to it, now. What you haven’t become numb to, though, is your boyfriend grabbing hold of your hips, and tugging you back to meet his slow, deliberate thrusts. You can hear his metal jewellery ting against each other, as your name slips from his lips among heated groans, and calm grunts.

Amami hasn’t said much, but God, have his actions spoken louder than words. Your little hideaway to kiss in the library has slowly devolved into him taking you to the floor, propping you up on your knees, pushing your head down, and slowly sliding his cock into you from behind. He’s so serene as he does it, too, that you would probably not even notice he was having sex–that is, if you weren’t on the receiving end of his hypnotic thrusts.

He doesn’t even seem to care that the others are close by, only one room over in the gaming lounge. They could so easily come in, could see what the two of you were up to…though if you were being honest, you probably wouldn’t be able to care much. If the killing game didn’t start by the end of the hour, then you’d all be dead anyways–and it doesn’t seem like anyone will be murdering anyone anytime soon. 

Your boyfriend’s soft gasp as he hits one of your weak spots sends shivers up your spine, and just as you’re relishing in how good the both of you are feeling…a flash of white enters your vision. 

“Huh..?”

Amami pauses, and for a moment, your heart stops. Has Monokuma decided an hour was too long? Are you about to die? Or…has something even worse happened?

“A-Amami..?”

He doesn’t say anything more, but you can feel him leaning upwards, probably to reach something on the bookshelf in front of you. But…is now really the time for reading? 

He shuffles a few things around, and you can hear something being ripped off of a surface–it almost sounds like tape, but that makes no sense…

“Give us a smile, sweetheart.”

Totally confused by now, you turn your head to see that Amami’s assumed his position once more–but this time, it takes you a moment to see what he’s pointing downwards at you.

“I-Is that…a camera?! A-Amami-!”

He chuckles gently, raising an eyebrow as he rocks his hips forward, and watches the pleasure flash across your eyes once more–and then, without warning, he snaps a picture. The flash makes you squint, and a smile crosses his face as he continues bucking into you, making your worries and fears nearly melt away.

“Whoever comes here afterwards will develop these pictures…hah, and they’ll see how good of a view I’ve got…”

It seems there’s a bit of a delay on the shutter for some reason, but that doesn’t stop Amami from aiming it at you, and taking picture after picture of you being impaled on his dick. Though he’s having his fun, you still have a hazy feeling that finding a camera placed so inconspicuously is surely a bad sign…but with his movements becoming faster and more uneven, it’s difficult to think too clearly about anything but how good it feels.

“Hah, you look so cute…”

He’s curved so perfectly, it’s like magic whenever he thrusts into you…in the heat of the moment, you wish you could die like this. Not that you want to die any sooner, but…to be so warm, and filled with so much satisfaction, is the best feeling in the world. You just want it to last forever, no matter how embarrassing it is that Amami’s documenting everything on a camera. His name escapes you in a moan, and you can feel him twitch inside you as you cry out just for him.

The camera falls with a clatter to the floor, and he’s got his hands on your waist once more–and he’s picking up the pace now, railing you so hard that it’s difficult keeping yourself propped off the ground.

“I-I’m gonna cum, now…o-oh yeah, I’m definitely gonna cum, if you keep being so damned cute…”

His voice is growing lower and grittier, the closer he gets to his end, and it’s definitely making you weak to hear him come so undone. He’s gotten so rough now that you can already feel the bruises forming, and with a few more deep, desperate strokes, he lets loose a resonant groan, and releases his tension inside of you. His cum is so thick, and so hot as it spills inside you, that it’s enough to push you right over the edge. Even though he’s finished already, Amami’s delicious moans fill your ears as you tighten and squeeze around him, your walls spasming against his half-softened cock. The afterglow is like a warm, radiant sunrise, and for minutes afterward, all you can do is lie there and bask in the sexual gratification, panting along with your boyfriend until the two of you can catch your breath.

You both sit there for a while, Amami eventually pulling himself out to see the mess he’s made inside of you, which now steadily drips down your legs and falls to stain the carpet underneath. When the strength finally returns to your limbs, you manage to cool off and pull your bottoms back on–though, with a grin on his face, Amami holds your underwear in his hand before slyly tucking it into his pocket, and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks for the present, love. Now, you should head back to the lounge–I’ll meet up with you in a few minutes, okay?”

You’re a little embarrassed that you’ll have to go without underwear, but with a pat on your behind, he sends you on your way out the side door of the library, to meet back up with the others before the timer runs out. 

It’s funny, to think that your thoughts are filled with how you’d like to spend your last moments in Amami’s arms–even though, as it turns out, you might be living a bit longer than you expected.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i got inspired by the comments on the previous installment of this story, so i decided to write a lil add-on featuring saihara!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh, i was so tempted to write a scene of saihara gettin all hot n bothered by the pictures ufu, but it ended up going in a different direction--so enjoy some yandere shuichi, loves~!

Even though Saihara had been more than eager to take a look at the pictures the Monokids had developed, now that he held them in his hands, he almost wished he could erase the image from his mind--including the connotations that went along with it.

Out of all the photos, there were only two that could be used as some kind of evidence--the first one, showing Rantaro fiddling about with the shelves in the library--and the last one, that showed the last possible second before his former classmate had taken a shotput ball to the head, ending his life in just a moment. Any questions he could have had surrounding his mysterious ally grew tenfold due to his death--but now, looking over the rest of the photos that had been taken in between, he had a feeling he knew a bit more about Rantaro’s...activities, before his demise. 

Instead of catching the potential traitor, or even his classmate’s killer, as the camera had been intended to do...it seemed as though it wasn’t as inconspicuous as it meant to be. Because the rest of the pictures had been taken by the victim himself--while he had been fucking one of their fellow classmates, only inches away from where he had taken his last breath. 

Shuichi had nearly dropped the photos once he’d first laid eyes on the incriminating scene--but now, after regaining his composure, he could look over each of the pictures, trying to pick up any details that might help with solving the murder. 

But it was useless. All he could focus on was the sparkle in your eyes, and the flush of your body as you had been pounded so mercilessly, pleasure obviously etched all over your face. Most of him couldn’t believe you would do something so reckless, so ridiculous with someone you barely knew, even though he was aware that it was likely contributed by the desperation of those last few hours, thinking you were all going to die. You, so sweet and innocent, had been ravaged by the beast that slept within Rantaro--Shuichi wouldn't have been surprised to think that he had even coerced you into something so lewd…

...And God, if he wasn't already dead, Saihara would have killed him. 

These feelings bubbling up inside were undoubtedly concerning--but he couldn't push his mind past the rage that he felt towards your deceased friend. No, he thought. It wasn't just rage.

It was jealousy.

He wanted to be the one to hold you in those last moments. He wanted to touch you, kiss you, he craved every drop of affection you could give him. He wanted you so badly, and up until now, you had been claimed by someone so vastly inferior, who had dirtied your precious body like the pervert he definitely was. 

But Rantaro was gone, now. Dead. Cold. And soon, he would be in the ground--and finally, Saihara would have his chance to show you how much better you deserved. You would get over Amami's death quickly enough, considering how eager all the rest of these degenerates were to try and scurry on home. It would only be a matter of time until the next murder, the next trial--and he would be there, this time. 

Gathering up the photos, except for the two that showed Amami by himself, Saihara calmly made his way over to the trash can, in the corner of his room--and with a lighter at the ready that he'd swiped from the warehouse, he calmly dropped all but one in the bucket. Flicking it open, he lit the corner of the filthy picture on fire--and with a soft landing, it fluttered down to the trash, causing everything to rise into flames. 

Destroying them was the only way he would be able to preserve your innocence, as well as erase the dreadful perversion from his mind. Rantaro Amami was gone forever. And as soon as this trial was done, he would flutter away from everyone’s minds, nothing more than a fuzzy memory of some mysterious classmate. 

And as soon as it was over, Saihara was going to take you into his arms, finally--and never, _ever_ let you go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so, here's an alternate ending at the request of the lovely destinyswish~! this one's got shuichi with a bit more...eager feeling towards the whole photo situation~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im posting this a bit quickly, as i have to go to work soon--ill probably edit it once i get back, i just couldnt wait to give you guys some hot n heavy saihara~

Even though Saihara had been more than eager to take a look at the pictures the Monokids had developed, now that he held them in his hands, he almost wished he could erase the image from his mind--including the connotations that went along with it.

Out of all the photos, there were only two that could be used as some kind of evidence--the first one, showing Rantaro fiddling about with the shelves in the library--and the last one, that showed the last possible second before his former classmate had taken a shotput ball to the head, ending his life in just a moment. Any questions he could have had surrounding his mysterious ally grew tenfold due to his death--but now, looking over the rest of the photos that had been taken in between, he had a feeling he knew a bit more about Rantaro’s...activities, before his demise. 

Instead of catching the potential traitor, or even his classmate’s killer, as the camera had been intended to do...it seemed as though it wasn’t as inconspicuous as it meant to be. Because the rest of the pictures had been taken by the victim himself--while he had been fucking one of their fellow classmates, only inches away from where he had taken his last breath. 

Shuichi had nearly dropped the photos once he’d first laid eyes on the incriminating scene--but now, after regaining his composure, he could look over each of the pictures, trying to pick up any details that might help with solving the murder. 

But it was useless. All he could focus on was the sparkle in your eyes, and the flush of your body as you had been pounded so mercilessly, pleasure obviously etched all over your face. To him, you were like a beautiful deity...and with his mind swirling with dark, lusting thoughts, Saihara was finding it more and more difficult to keep himself composed. He just needed to survey the other pictures, try and find something to...find a piece of evidence, a clue of some sort…

“...Fuck. Fuck!”

But it was just too much for him to handle. Tossing the pictures on his desk, he hurried to lock the front door of his room--and taking a seat in his chair, he fumbled with the zipper on the front of his pants, face flushed so darkly he felt as if he might have a fever. 

Was he really going to do this? The person that had taken these pictures was dead, still laying in the corner of the library he had died in--and what about you? You were so distraught, so upset, you had dashed away crying when Rantaro had been discovered, and still hadn’t been found. Could he really live with himself, if he used your suffering for something as primal as getting himself off? 

He paused for a few moments, the rational side of his brain trying to take over--but the lust in his heart was destined to win, and finally, Saihara tugged down his boxers so he could pull himself out. You were just so lovely...he could imagine how soft your skin must feel, and the kinds of noises you would make when you were stroked, and kissed...and, wrapping his hand around his strained erection, Shuichi started to jerk himself off to those delectable thoughts. 

“Nnnh...d-damn it..”

His worries and fears still plagued him, but as soon as he used his free hand to pick up one of the photos, they just about melted from his mind. 

There was something so raw about the photo--it was likely the first that had been taken of you and Rantaro’s encounter, as the pleasured expression on your face was tinged with a hint of shock in your eyes. But you were still so sweet, so lost in ecstasy as you were taken in such a vulnerable position...he almost wished he could scold Rantaro for not having his way with you in the missionary position--so he could see all those most secret areas in full detail, skin flushed and begging to be kissed, and teased, and marked. You were absolutely the perfect subject--and the more he looked upon your glory, the faster he found himself rubbing his dripping, needy cock. 

“N-Not yet..!”

He was close, startlingly so--but Shuichi forced himself to stop, taking his hand away so he could settle down once more. He clenched his fist at the denial of pleasure--but he wanted to take his time. He wasn’t certain how long he would have these photos...and he wanted to burn the image of you like this into his mind, forever. Setting down the photo, he picked up the next one--and this, this was certainly far lewder than the last. Your eyes had rolled back, sweat dripping down your heated body, and he could clearly see the burning spots of where Rantaro must have given you a good smack across the ass. You were even digging your nails into the carpet, obviously so wrapped up in the moment that you wouldn’t even care if someone else saw. 

Slowly, his hand moved of its’ own accord, knowing what his body craved before his mind did. Grabbing hold of his shaft, Shuichi swiped his thumb across the tip, over and over, teasing his body into getting back into a rhythm. 

God, he so wished that his hand was yours. He wished he knew the feeling of you grabbing his dick, and pumping it so eagerly until he came all over your pleading, irresistible face. His ultimate fantasy would be to have you pursue him, to be so desperate for his touch that you would get on your knees and beg him to have his way with you. He could just imagine the tears of relief spilling down your face, as he would finally give in and ruin that sweet little hole of yours--

“S-Shit…!”

Gripping his cock, Shuichi once more jerked himself like a twisted perv, the scenarios running through his head more obscene than he had ever allowed himself to imagine before. The angle Rantaro had taken the pictures, cutting out all of him except for his dick, buried inside you--it helped him even further imagine that it was him screwing you into the ground, making you moan his name and beg for him to fill you with his cum. This time, he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself. Shuichi tugged at his dick, stopping only for a second to lube himself more with his spit, before bucking into his hand so roughly that he might be leaving himself sore--but it didn’t matter anymore. He wanted to fuck you until you couldn’t take it anymore, and blow his load so hard you would be dripping once he was done--and then, he would clean up the mess with his tongue, eating you out until you were whining and begging for him to do you all over again. He wanted to make you cry and twist with pleasure, to get you so hooked on his cock that you never wanted anyone else ever again--

“F-Fuck..fuck, fuck-!”

He couldn’t even stop to grab a tissue--his hips grinding to a sudden halt, Shuichi keened and moaned out your name into the silence of his room, his dick twitching in his hand before releasing a load of his hot, thick sperm. In a moment of panic, and not wanting to stain the carpet, his hand shot down to catch what he could--but without thinking, he ended up cumming all over the preciously rare photo. 

“G-God...shit, what am I going to do..?” 

If it came up at the trial, he would have to take out the photos as evidence--but once he glanced down at the picture, and saw how depraved you looked now, with his cum splattered all over your back…

Taking a deep breath, and still a bit slow from the afterglow, Shuichi wiped the mess off the photo with his thumb--and like the degenerate sicko he felt like, he sucked his essence off his fingers, before wiping himself off and tucking himself back into his pants. 

Standing from his seat, Shuichi pushed open the door to his closet, before slipping the lewd pictures into the jacket pocket of one of his spare uniforms. The remaining pictures of Amami were slipped into his back pocket--and once he had splashed some cold water on his face and washed his hands, he turned the handle to his room and stepped out, ready to make his way towards the judgement building. 

He could assess his feelings about it later. Besides, he had plenty more pictures to save for another rainy day.


End file.
